


Against the Sky

by DepravedBlink



Category: Dreamcatcher (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dragons, F/F, Pre-Relationship, slight bdsm undertones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:35:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27845356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DepravedBlink/pseuds/DepravedBlink
Summary: Today she has turned twenty-one, and today is her last chance.After today, if she isn’t chosen, Lee Yubin will never be a Dragonrider.
Relationships: Han Dong | Handong/Lee Yubin | Dami
Comments: 11
Kudos: 104





	Against the Sky

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this laying around my drive for a while and I thought perhaps you would enjoy it while you wait for updates to Without Restraint. I hope you do!

It is said that every year at the time of the choosing, the great orange dragon appears. But  _ only _ at the time of the choosing. No one has ever seen the dragon anywhere else, at any other time. It’s become something of a legend now, something for old men to rattle on about in between mugs of beer.

_ “It was the year after the war. I didn’t even reach my father’s knee but I remember that dragon like it was yesterday. Its wings spanned two villages - each! It spat fireballs so wide it could destroy anything in a hundred miles!” _

_ “It was the year  _ before _ the war, and I’d just come of age. I was gonna be the dragonrider for the great orange dragon, don’t you know. And here it came, swooping around us like a snake - and no wings! Then just like that, it was gone. Didn’t choose any of us.” _

They are stories Yubin has loved to listen to ever since she was a child. No one really knows if the dragon has wings or not. If it can spit fire or not. If it has no legs, a hundred legs, demon eyes or rabbit eyes. But everyone agrees: it is an  _ orange _ dragon. Neither vermillion nor yellow, but a hue that sparkled like golden fire in the sun, and nearly blinded anyone who saw it.

No one  _ really _ knows if the dragon exists; every year they hope it will come to Bukchon, but so far, the dragon hasn’t found them interesting enough. Yubin knows it may very well just be a fairytale parents recite every evening to coax a wayward young one into sleep. But it’s fun to dream, and she’s been dreaming since she was eight years old.

Today she has turned twenty-one, and today is her last chance.

After today, if she isn’t chosen, Lee Yubin will never be a Dragonrider.

Her mother said once that there are no markings proving that you will be a Dragonrider. It’s just a feeling, something that pulls at you like an invisible string. And the string will continue to get tighter and tighter until it draws your dragon to choose you.

After five years, Yubin’s string is drawn so taut she fears it will finally snap. She dreads the emptiness when it happens.

She tries to quell her nerves as she checks herself one last time in the mirror. She’d decided just yesterday to cut her hair, and the cropped strands make her nervous as she runs her hand through. It makes her feel even more exposed, somehow. But she likes the way it falls into her eyes, likes the way that the shorter hair means her dangling earrings - a gift from her mother years ago - can be seen. 

Yubin is desperate to be seen. To be  _ chosen _ . She has gone to the arena every year since she was 16 years old, and each year she has returned bearing the weight of rejection on her young shoulders. Well, not even rejection - she hadn’t been  _ noticed _ . Dragons in every color of the rainbow, every size, every spectrum of ferocity had flown over her head for five long years, and not one of them had so much as laid a lazy eye on the small girl so hungry to be called theirs.

So this year, she chooses red. The sleeves and lapel of her shirt are black, as are her pants, but the torso of the shirt is a deep crimson, and the same red runs down her pants legs in a single stripe. Broad silver buttons accentuate the sleeves of her shirt, with two in the front as well. She’s polished her black boots so much she can see herself in them.

But it’s the cape that brings everything together. It fastens just under her lapels, and flows sheer and gauzy down her back. There’s a slight breeze coming in from the open window and sometimes it catches the cape just right, lifting it away from her almost as if she’s flying. Maybe it’s a metaphor, she thinks. 

Or maybe it’s just the breeze. Ephemeral and fleeting, like her hopes of being a rider. 

She touches her hand to her left shoulder. If she’s chosen -  _ once _ she’s chosen - she will wear the looped trio of silver chains that will mark her as a true Dragonrider. She’s watched countless unworthy (to her, anyway) men and women pin that accessory to their clothes. Maybe she’s not a rider but a dragon herself, because seeing them walk away with their chains and their dragons makes Yubin burn with jealousy.

She leaves her apartment and starts to make her way to the train station that will take her to the arena. Already Bukchon is a hive of activity; the roads are a bottleneck with honking taxis struggling through the traffic. Little kids wearing dragon hats chatter excitedly to their parents; here and there a candidate will stride through the throng with their heads held high. Yubin understands the pride; has borne it herself on the days when she lets herself dream. Dragonriders aren’t the highest in society, of course; that’s reserved for the emperor’s sorcerers, his council. But even a member of the council might be envious of the riders and their soulbonds with their dragons. Sorcerers, it is said, bond with nothing except their magic. Only a few have bonded for love, and Yubin thinks that’s even more of a fairy tale than the great orange dragon.

Each of the candidates are dressed in the solid colors of a dragon: black, white, blue, green, red. You could usually tell the wealthier class from the villagers; the clothing ranged from something resembling a full uniform, to a simple shirt over a pair of jeans. Yubin’s own outfit is neither rich nor poor, but somewhere in the middle.

A liminal space. Much like a rider without a dragon.

A candidate, once chosen, will usually adapt their dress to correspond with their dragon’s color. Maybe a green scarf, or a blue handkerchief tucked into a breast pocket. Some Riders have even been known to change their hair color to match their dragon. Yubin’s not so sure about that one, but honestly if it would mean she had a dragon, she’d dye her hair with every shade in the rainbow.   


It’s not that Yubin wants a dragon just to have one. She’s heard of Candidates like that. Usually they’re weeded out when a dragon doesn’t choose them, but there’s been a story or three of Riders that have pretended to bond with a dragon. That never ends well. Yubin always feels sorry for the dragon that has to go through that; so many people have viewed them as a status symbol, and Yubin… just wants to understand this string that tugs at her heart continuously. It’s as if something in her has attached itself to something  _ outside _ of her, as if a piece of Yubin was broken off the moment she was born, and she’s spent her entire life trying to get it back. 

The train to the arena is a nightmare. Yubin manages to shove herself into the farthest corner of one of the cars, holding onto the pole for dear life. Normally she loves taking the train; today everything is just too loud and too bright, a sea of primary colors. She’s nervous. The long fingers of her left hand tap impatiently against her leg.

After a few seconds, she’s aware of a young man stood opposite her, his knuckles white as he grips the pole just above her own hand. He’s barely sixteen, she thinks, and he looks a thousand times more nervous than she is.

“First time?” she asks, having to shout to be heard over the din of the other passengers. He glances at her before nodding.

“Yeah.” He bounces on the balls of his feet. “I feel like I’ve been waiting for this forever.”

“I know what that’s like.” Yubin smiles. The flutter in her stomach is still there, though it’s been somewhat muted in the last five years. She loves the excitement and the anticipation, the  _ what-ifs _ and  _ maybes _ . The  _ what might have beens _ aren’t that fun, but she tries not to dwell on that, otherwise she’ll start wanting to snap the string itself.

The young man, clad in an impeccable black suit, with his hair gelled and sticking up every which way, tilts his head at her. She knows that look, that curiosity, and Yubin steels herself.

“Aren’t you too--”

“I’m 21,” she answers defensively. She stops beating a rhythm on her leg and fiddles with her cape instead. She likes the way the floaty material slides through her fingers; she closes her eyes and tries to imagine the cool touch of dragon scales instead.

When she reopens her eyes the young man is still looking at her awkwardly, although he at least has the decency to look a little shamed. Yubin knows she’s an anomaly; she knows that candidates and dragonriders alike feel sorry for her. A few have openly mocked her, accusing her of being an imposter. She doesn’t mind that so much; it’s the pity that she hates. She doesn’t want anyone acting as if there is something wrong with her; she doesn’t want anyone treating her as if she is a cast-off, unwanted, a reject. She isn’t. She  _ can’t be _ . She’s had this feeling for too long; it’s too strong for her to just be a “normal” human.

She’s meant to be a dragonrider. Yubin knows that, with everything she is.

“Good luck,” he says to her, and Yubin drops the defensiveness, because this is just a kid, going to his first choosing. His hopes and dreams laid out in front of him.

“Good luck,” she echoes with a warm smile, as the train screeches to a stop.

Back on solid ground at the station, Yubin once again brushes her hand through her hair and smooths down the fabric of her own suit. She knows other candidates are dressed in red and that it doesn’t really improve her chances, but it doesn’t matter. She feels proud, maybe even a little elegant. If this is her last stand at becoming a dragonrider, she’s at least going to look good.

This station leads directly to the arena, so it’s more of a shopping center than a subway station. There are shops for chocolates, for wine, for clothes, nearly anything Yubin can think of. She laughs when she sees a father coming out of one of the children’s stores, a baby dressed as a dragon riding on his shoulders.

She buys a coffee and sips on it lazily as she walks around. There’s still a couple of hours to go before the choosing, and she doesn’t have to enter the arena quite yet. She will soon, to get a good seat on the field, but for now Yubin is content to just look in all the shops. She lingers longest in the bookstore. She’s happiest when she’s among books; she visits the library so much she may as well be a permanent fixture. Yubin has always had a love of reading; a desire to learn something new, or to disappear inside a world not her own. There are a few new novels she’d love to have, but her part-time job as a music engineer doesn’t pay all that much, and she doesn’t have enough time after dragonrider training to read very often.

She’s still tempted, though; if she doesn’t get chosen today she’ll have all the time in the world.

She gives in and buys one book, knowing it’ll just get added to the growing pile of unread ones in her bedroom. But there’s just something about the smell and feel of a book that makes them hard to resist. She takes the bag from the shopkeeper with a polite “thank you” and a smile; as she makes her way out of the bookstore towards the arena, her phone buzzes.

It’s her older brother, a dragonrider who has been living in the Apple City for the last few years. His message is only one line.

_ It will happen. _

Her smile slips into an affectionate grin; she types out her response quickly.

_ I wish I had your optimism, oppa. _

Aside from her parents and a couple of Yubin’s friends from training, her brother has been her strongest advocate, an unrelenting support. He’d even shown up at the training academy when one of the teachers had threatened to expel Yubin because she didn’t yet have a dragon. He’s determined that Yubin  _ will _ have a dragon, and that determination is really one of the few things besides her own desire that keeps her returning to the arena grounds every year. She’s cried her disappointment to him every time she’s returned to her apartment alone, and every time he tells her to never give up, because her family has never given up.

So she doesn’t.

She trades a few more messages with him, and by the time her phone buzzes again with its alarm, telling her it’s time to enter the arena, she feels more at ease. Still nervous, still a little fearful, but she holds her head a little higher. Her step is a little more confident.

_ It  _ will _ happen. _

It has to.

As she walks the short tunnel into the arena, she can already hear the cheering of the crowd, but what makes her stop just at the edge of the entrance are the dragons. It’s unusual for them to be here this early, but they’re already swooping overhead, screeching and blowing smoke at each other. Yubin stops under the large archway and watches as a few of the dragons circle lower, essentially checking out the candidates already on the field. But the ceremony hasn’t yet begun, and it won’t until every candidate for that year has shown themselves present for selection. If a candidate fails to show up for the choosing ceremony, they’ve forfeited their participation for the next year, and will have to wait for the following ceremony. Yubin can’t imagine having to wait two years for a potential selection. Some candidates have just given up after one or two tries at selection; Yubin doesn’t think she could do that, either.

She takes a deep breath, and walks out into the arena. 

The weather has held, and the sky already filled with dragons is a calm, sunlit blue. There are no clouds; only puffs of smoke and the lashing of wings.They are black, and green, and red, and they are most definitely beautiful. They aren’t orange, and Yubin feels a twinge of disappointment. When she is old and no longer bitter, she’ll come to the choosing as a spectator, and if the great orange dragon appears, what a tale it will be for her brother’s children.

Yubin makes a slow turn to take in the arena, as she does every time she’s here. The vastness of the amphitheatre is breathtaking. The grey stone seats rise up in rows like soldiers standing guard over the proceedings. They’re already three quarters full; children and elders alike. Some hold banners for their favorite candidate; some are even shouting specific chants for them. It makes it all seem like a sporting event, but Yubin supposes in a way, it is.

The choosing is the only ceremony for the Blessed, because being a dragonrider is the only blessing that comes from being  _ chosen _ . A shapeshifter will know by the time she’s five years old; the elders say that a seer is  _ born _ with their sight. A dragonrider will have a feeling, a desire, but it’s only when he or she has been claimed by their dragon that they can truly call themselves a dragonrider. A true dragonrider has never gone unclaimed, but as Yubin walks over to the line of candidates waiting to be declared, she thinks that perhaps she’ll be the first.

There are new candidates in the line, people she’s never met, and there are young men and women she’s known from her time on the training fields. Some of them smile and wave at her; others sneer at her, and she can’t blame them, really. Each time she asks herself why she bothers trying. But every year, the string inside her tightens.

She steps up to the elder, an old woman with wise eyes and a kind smile. She recognizes Yubin, and her face folds into sympathy. “State your purpose,” is all she says.

Yubin straightens herself to her tallest height, and clears her throat. “I am Lee Yubin,” she says, without a hint of hesitancy in her voice. “I declare myself as candidate for dragonrider.”

“Good luck, Yubin!”

“Go home, Lee! No dragon wants you!”

“Give the rest of us a chance, will you?”

“She deserves as much a chance as anyone!”

She ignores them, focusing on the elder in front of her, who studies Yubin closely, then nods. “So declared,” she says, then reaches out a hand and rests it on Yubin’s shoulder.

“May you find a dragon’s favor.”

She gives the elder a faint smile, because as much as she ignores the other candidates, their words still land. She’s grateful for the support, but she can’t deny that she might, just a little bit, agree with the others. Maybe a dragon doesn’t want her. Maybe she is putting the other candidates at a disadvantage.

But it’s her last year. She  _ has _ to try.

She makes her way over to the edge of the field where the other candidates are standing around. All of them have their eyes fastened on the sky above, at the dragons that are circling overhead with screeches, occasional puffs of fire and smoke. The rush of air from their wings causes Yubin’s cape to lift, and it makes her proud.

Will it be that red one? She looks at it, takes in the way the sun glints off the scales, making them look almost bloody. Or will it be the blue one, so small and young it looks almost like a baby as it weaves through the air and flips over onto its back for a moment. It’s playful, and it makes Yubin smile, but she doesn’t think the little one would make a good match for her. She’s more serious than not, really.

The white one is intimidating due to its sheer size. Against the sky it reminds Yubin of a CEO’s expensive yacht: imposing, yet skimming across the sea as if it weighs nothing. It blinks a lazy blue eye at the candidates, as if the dragon is ranking them, most worthy to least. Yubin wonders where she falls, but the dragon doesn’t spare her so much as a glance as it moves overhead, so she supposes not much.

Yubin finds a spot off to one side of the field and sinks down into the grass, deciding not to sit with the others who are clustered together and whispering excitedly. It’s not that she wouldn’t enjoy the camaraderie, but Yubin finds virtue in being alone. Plus she knows if she sat with them, the whispers would inevitably turn to her. She doesn’t want to answer questions; she doesn’t want to have to defend herself. She just… wants to be. To hope, and to wait. By herself.

The crackling of feedback has them all wincing, and then an imperious voice comes over the loudspeaker.

“The ceremony is about to begin. Please take your seats.”

Here is where Yubin typically tunes out. The speech is the same every year, and after you’ve been to the ceremony since you were sixteen, it tends to become rote, like prayer beads slipping through your fingers. The message is always the same, and if Yubin’s being honest, she’s not sure she agrees with it anymore.

_ Are _ dragonriders responding to a higher call than sorcerers, or seers? Shapeshifters might not see the future or change the world with magic, but dragonriders didn’t either. Unless they were part of the flight regiment, like Yubin’s brother. Yubin considered joining him, but she’d decided fairly soon into beginning her training that the military wasn’t for her. She didn’t want to be a mercenary, either.

She would prefer, she thinks, protecting people behind the scenes. And if she were to have a little adventure while doing it, that’s just the icing on the cake.

But she doesn’t think she’s  _ better _ than anyone. Different, maybe, but not really that either. She’s just… Lee Yubin. And she’s not sure that she feels any more special, any more powerful, any more worthy, just because she feels bound to become a dragonrider.

_ A rider’s heart may be in the clouds, but their head must not be. They must be grounded, ever aware of the profound honor they have been granted by their dragon _ .

“Water? Would you like water?”

A girl in ripped jeans, her hair tucked into a bucket hat, is winding her way through the candidates, a full basket of water and snacks in her hands. Yubin has to give it to the council - they always make sure the candidates are well taken care of, especially when the weather is a bit stifling.

Yubin cocks up her knee and leans on it, squinting against the sunlight to see the dragons. They have slowed their flight and now are just sort of hovering, waiting. Yubin wonders who they will choose. When she was eighteen a fight had broken out when two dragons had chosen the same rider. The only thing that had saved the arena from complete destruction was the rider’s twin brother, who had been in the bathroom. She dares to think that maybe one or two of the dragons are watching her, leaning casually in the grass, her red cape spread out behind her.

“Hello, would you like a wa--”

“No, go away.”

“Of course, I’m sorry.”

Yubin turns her head and sees the guy that had been on the train with her, waving his hand dismissively at the girl giving out water. Yubin makes a face. If there’s one thing she can’t stand, it’s riders with a superiority complex. And the girl looks like she’s struggling with the weight of her basket; her high cheekbones are dusted pink with the afternoon heat. Yubin hopes she’s getting paid enough. 

_ And so, let all candidates approach their choosing with pride and yet humility, with eagerness and yet patience, with joy and yet with _ \--

“Would you like a water?”

Yubin looks up and for a moment, her breath leaves her. The girl is smiling down at her shyly; Yubin realizes she’s not from Bukchon because of the slow, accented way she speaks. It’s a simple request, but she enunciates each word like she’s giving the most important speech of her life. It’s oddly endearing.

“No,” Yubin starts, but she’s distracted by a sudden roar of cheers. A female rider on the other end of the field has been chosen already; she’s jumping up and down and being hugged by her training mates before she is whisked away by the small blue dragon.

There are fifteen dragons, Yubin has counted. Fifteen dragons for sixteen riders.

“No,” she says again, turning back to the water girl with a wistful smile. “Thank you, though.”

Another roar - the black dragon, this time, choosing a young man with long hair and a simple green shirt. His reaction is completely different - he approaches the dragon slowly, almost reverently; Yubin thinks she can see tears glinting in his eyes as he reaches out his hand. It’s the dragon who screeches merrily, and then both rider and dragon are gone.

Yubin has often wondered what the choosing is like for the  _ dragon _ . She’s heard from a few of them, when they’ve come to training in their human forms. They’ve described it as a longing much like what the riders themselves feel, but multiplied a thousandfold when they’re in their dragon form. Yubin’s not sure if she could handle that. She thinks maybe she would’ve given up after the first couple years of trying.

She watches quietly as one by one, the dragons choose their riders. One hesitates, swooping in and out of the crowd and the candidates before finally selecting the boy from the train. Yubin’s glad for him; she hopes the dragon will teach him to be nicer to girls offering water.

“Oh, no, I’m so sorry!”

“Hey, watch where the hell you’re going!”

Yubin turns just in time to see said girl offering water tumble to the grass, her basket upending and bottles rolling everywhere. She pushes herself to her knees and bows repeatedly to the candidates in apology, reaching to gather everything that has spilled out.

They roll their eyes and turn away, and Yubin is on her feet and over to the young woman’s side before she can think of it.

“Here,” she says, squatting down. “Let me help. Are you hurt?”

“No.” She spares Yubin a quick glance then looks away. Yubin imagines that her cheeks have gotten a little pinker; it’s kind of cute. “Only embarrassed.”

The white dragon has chosen its rider. Yubin picks up two water bottles and places them in the basket.

“Don’t be. It happens. The other day I was walking from the living room to my kitchen and tripped over my own feet.”

She laughs and her eyes crinkle up; Yubin grins in response, comfortable with the silence that falls over them as they quickly pick up all the water bottles and snacks and put them in the basket.

“There we go,” Yubin says; she stands and brushes her pants off before extending her hand to the young woman. She takes it, surprisingly elegant fingers curling against Yubin’s own, and Yubin tugs to lift her to her feet.

“Thank you so much...:”

Yubin shrugs. “No thanks necessary. I just wanted to make sure you were all right.” She reaches down to grasp the basket, grunting in surprise when she picks it up. No wonder the poor girl fell.

“I’ll walk with you,” she decides. “This thing is too heavy for you.”

The woman’s brown eyes focus on Yubin, staring at her in a way that makes Yubin wonder if she has something stuck in her teeth.

“It’s all right, I was almost finished asking everyone anyway.”

“I insist,” Yubin says, a little more firmly. “Please, it’s too heavy for you.” She pokes her elbow out a little, offering her arm to the young woman even while she’s volunteering to carry the basket of water and snacks.

“I suppose if you insist.” She slips her hand into Yubin’s arm and holds lightly. “What’s your name?”

“Lee Yubin,” she says. She stops in front of a candidate. “Water?”

“No thanks.”

Yubin narrows her eyes a little. “It’s hot, take a water,” she says. She smirks when the candidate pulls one out of the basket.

“And what’s your name?”

“Handong.”

_ Handong _ . Yubin smiles at her. She’s the same height as Yubin, but something about the way she carries herself makes her seem much taller, as if the last thing she should be doing is walking around offering snacks to candidates. Handong is slim, her black shirt clinging to her; her hand feels dainty and yet somehow commanding in the crook of Yubin’s arm.

She would, Yubin thinks, be proud to have someone this pretty on her arm. 

“Is this your first time at the choosing?”

Yubin’s smile fades. She walks with Handong and gives two more candidates water and food before she quietly answers.

“No, which is why I guess this is yours. I’ve been here since I was sixteen.”

“And how old are you now?” She doesn’t sound judgmental, merely curious. Handong has been staring at Yubin as they move around the edge of the field; it should be unsettling but it’s hot and Yubin is focused on getting the heavy basket emptied, so it doesn’t matter.

“I’m twenty-one.”

“Ah.”

_ Ah _ . It’s a careful word, a loaded one. It could mean so many things.  _ Ah, that’s a pity. Ah, there’s still a chance.  _ She’s heard it all before. Yubin doesn’t know which one she believes anymore.

Steadily the basket grows lighter, because every time a candidate refuses water, Yubin tacitly reminds them that they need to stay hydrated. She also stares them down if they try to refuse a second time; her friends have called her intimidating and Yubin sometimes likes to put that to good use.

“What’s brought you here?” Yubin asks, when they’re down to three bottles and she realizes that she’s barely talked to Handong, who still has her hand on Yubin’s arm.

“Only visiting,” Handong replies. “I travel a lot and this seemed like a nice place to rest. When I saw that the choosing was going on, I wanted to see what all the fuss was about.”

“It’s a lot of fuss,” Yubin admits.

“So much! Are your shops usually like this?”

“What do you mean?”

“They have very expensive things. I was tempted by a purse or two.”

Yubin chuckles, and Handong laughs with her; her voice isn’t as deep as Yubin’s, but her giggle isn’t as high-pitched either. It’s nice to hear, really.

“Mostly it’s just because of the ceremony. The shops like to raise prices because so many tourists have deep pockets.” She casts a knowing look at Handong.

“I am guilty as charged.” 

The last bottle given out, Yubin tips the basket upside down to show Handong it’s empty, and they make their way back to Yubin’s spot on the grass.

“Thank you,” Handong says, and there’s such admiration in her voice that it’s Yubin’s turn to blush; she can feel her cheeks puff out as she shifts her gaze downward and she has to fight the urge to literally scuff the ground with the toe of her boot.

Handong is overwhelmingly pretty. Yubin has known for a while now that she’s never going to be looking for a husband; when she thinks of marriage it’s always of herself down on one knee holding out couple rings for whatever woman has captured her heart. It’s never bothered her, but she’s not quite sure what her parents would think of it. Her brother, at least, has always been supportive, and Yubin thinks that if she could bring someone like Handong home to her parents, with her sparkling eyes and ruby red lips that are curved into a coy smile, they’d have to approve.

“Would you like to sit down?” Yubin asks. She looks up at the sky, realizing she’s completely forgotten the reason why she’s here, after all.

Five dragons remain. 

Five dragons, six candidates.

“I think I would,” Handong says, sounding a little surprised. She lets go of Yubin’s arm and starts to lower herself.

“Wait!” Her voice comes out too quickly, too loud, and Handong winces. “I’m sorry,” Yubin gentles her tone. “Wait for a moment, please.”

She sets the basket down and quickly unbuttons the cape from under her lapels. She shakes it out, then flaps it once so that it fans out completely, and she lets it fall wide onto the grass.

“There,” she says with satisfaction, and extends her hand to Handong again. “Now would you like to sit down?”

“You want me to sit on your cape?” Handong asks with a broad smile, and Yubin feels a strange flutter in her stomach.

“A lady shouldn’t sit in the dirt,” Yubin responds. She shifts nervously, because  _ she _ might be one to like girls, but Handong may not. Still, Yubin hopes that Handong can see that she doesn’t mean anything by it; she’s just being truthful. The other woman seems far too classy to just sit in the grass like Yubin herself.

Another cheer goes up in the crowd. Fainter than the first, because as riders are chosen, their friends and family leave to celebrate elsewhere. Yubin’s brother had offered to come, but she’d told him no. She doesn’t want him to be witness to her disappointment, in spite of his fervent belief that  _ it will happen _ .

Four dragons, five candidates.

Handong once again slips her fingers into Yubin’s, and delicately sits onto the other woman’s cape. Yubin grins and un-delicately flops onto the grass next to her, once again with her knee up and leaning against her arm. 

“What will you do if you’re not chosen?”

Yubin picks a blade of grass and twirls it idly in her fingers. “Where are you from?” she counters, not because she hasn’t considered the question that Handong has asked her, but because she’s considered it far too much and doesn’t want to think about it anymore.

Handong has folded her legs underneath her, and she casts Yubin a knowing look. Yubin’s not so sure she likes it; she feels called out and she averts her eyes under the other woman’s gaze.

“Here, there, and everywhere really. I don’t think I’ve ever stayed anywhere too long.”

“Nowhere to call home?”

Handong tilts her head, contemplating; Yubin suddenly wishes she’d take off her hat, because she wants to see what the woman looks like without the shade of the brim. 

“No, not yet.”

“Any place in particular you’d like to settle down?”

“Answer my question first,” Handong says, and even with the hat shadowing half her face Yubin can  _ see _ the smirk. Her cheeks burn hot.

Two dragons, three candidates. Yubin taps her booted heel nervously against the ground, the blade of grass spinning wildly in her fingers.

“Back to my apartment,” she says, which is the obvious answer, but Handong gives her another look and Yubin scoffs. “I barely know you,” she points out. “I can’t give away all of my secrets.”

She tries to hold her personal life close to her chest. There are only a couple of Yubin’s friends who even know her parents’ names, and she likes it that way. She respects privacy, and though she feels a little bit like she’d spill everything Handong wants to know if she just keeps  _ looking _ at her, Yubin’s pretty sure she’s not going to be able to handle two rejections in one day.

“But I think I might try to go on a few adventures just to get away.”

“I think I’d like to live in the River City.”

The River City. Yubin glances at Handong with surprise, and the woman smiles. Like the great orange dragon, Yubin has only heard tales of the River City. In the last few years it’s become pretty isolated, but the power it holds is the stuff of legend. It’s supposed to be beautiful, and Yubin supposes that if Handong should live anywhere, it should be someplace beautiful.

“Is that why you want a dragon?”

“Hm?” The penultimate dragon is choosing, and Yubin’s nerves are on edge. She should stand up, because what if it chooses  _ her _ ? And yet, part of her just wants to sit here, in the sunlight, talking to Handong while she sits on Yubin’s cape.

“For adventure.”

She tears her gaze away from the sky and stares at Handong. Yubin takes in her eyes and the warm way she regards her; at the way her gentle smile radiates over her cheekbones to her entire face. She seems shy, and yet the way she looks at Yubin makes her feel as if they’ve been friends for years.

“It might be a perk,” she says, then is quiet for a moment, thinking. “But that’s not why.”

“Why?” Handong prompts. Her voice is soft.

Yubin wraps her arms around her legs, resting her chin on her knees. Part of her wishes she was back at her apartment, curled underneath her favorite blue blanket and reading a book. The second to last dragon is taking a long time to make up its mind.

“Because I don’t know anything else.”

She keeps her eyes focused on the horizon, squinting a little as if she could see the great orange dragon in the distance. Her hair falls into her face, but she doesn’t bother to brush it away. She doesn’t want Handong to see the tear that slowly trickles down her cheek.

“Everything in my life has always led to this. I know who I am, but I also know who I would be with a dragon.”

“Who would you be with a dragon?”

“Theirs.”

“That would be a very lucky dragon.”

Yubin laughs. “They’re lucky anyway,” she said. “Gods and goddesses of the sky.”

“And you long to be with a god? Or… goddess?”

Yubin quirked an eyebrow. Was that Handong’s way of asking… She felt herself blush.

“Being a dragonrider is my purpose,” she says. “Even if I don’t have one, I will always consider myself a rider. If a dragon doesn’t choose me… I’ll just tell myself she’s lost, and she’s looking for me.”

“How long will  _ you _ search?”

The dragon has chosen its rider. Yubin stands up.

One dragon, two candidates.

She looks over her shoulder at Handong, who is still watching her from her seat on Yubin’s cape.

“I guess until I join my ancestors. Excuse me.”

It’s probably rude, stepping away from Handong, but it’s the last dragon. There is another female dragonrider waiting, and Yubin can see herself in her. Younger, but just as nervous, maybe even just as pained. Yubin watches her, sees the way the young girl’s eyes dart across the sky, watching the green dragon. She sees the way the girl’s mouth moves, as if she’s saying a prayer, or summoning the dragon to her.

She thinks about herself. The lonely train ride home. Burying her face in the pillow so the neighbors won’t hear her cry. Eating nothing but a few bites of sweet potato for a week because she has no appetite. Wondering  _ why _ .

Yubin looks up at the dragon against the sky, and she says a prayer of her own.

“Choose her.” The dragon hovers over Yubin, looking down at her with glittering black eyes. When she speaks again, her voice is as clear as it’s ever been.

“Choose her.”

Maybe, she thinks, she’ll ask Handong out for coffee.

She stands alone on the field, her fists clenched. The choice has been made, and Yubin is a rider without a dragon. She hears a ringing in her ears over the small roar of the crowd - the other dragonrider’s family, no doubt. No one comes up to Yubin to console her; she knows no one in the stands will so much as give her a second glance. For a moment she thinks she hears Handong’s voice, but Yubin shakes her head.

It’s over.

She turns to go.

“Yubin, wait.”

She’ll just go home. Maybe a shot of soju, some meaningless television. Maybe she’ll try to channel everything into lyrics. Maybe she’ll just try to sleep. She starts to walk towards the train tunnel.

“Lee Yubin, I said wait.”

The voice fills the entire arena, and everyone stops.  _ She _ stops, as if the invisible string in her chest has been jerked tightly, held fast by another hand. She turns around, slowly.

Yubin’s cape is draped over one of Handong’s arms. In her hands is her hat.

All breath leaves Yubin’s body. Her mouth drops open, because all she can see is  _ fire _ . Hair like flames licks at Handong’s shoulders, incandescent orange that rages like an inferno against the late afternoon sun. Gone are her torn jeans and black shirt, replaced by an orange and red dress that blazes outward like a pyre.

This is it, Yubin thinks, I’ve gone insane.

She’s the most beautiful woman Yubin has ever seen.

“Will you come with me?” Handong asks her. She is gentle, giving Yubin an out with the question; Yubin thinks that Handong would still sound that sweet, even if she refuses.

And she  _ should _ refuse, because there’s something otherworldly about all this and Yubin’s second instinct is to run like hell. Her first instinct, though, is to say yes. 

“Where are we going?” she says instead, somewhat dumbly, and Handong laughs.

“On an adventure.” She smirks, and she winks, and  _ yes _ , Yubin thinks. Yes.

She nods. And Handong is gone.

Someone screams. The sky goes dark. Yubin can hear people running beside her, loud exclamations of surprise. 

“It’s the orange dragon!” a child shouts, and Yubin blinks, because  _ of course _ it’s the orange dragon.

She snakes across the sky, massive, wingless. She loops and weaves and darts, letting out a wild shriek and Yubin has the sudden realization that Handong is  _ playing _ .

Handong is a dragon, and she is  _ playing _ .

Yubin yelps as suddenly she is airborne; the dragon has her in its jaws by her shirt collar. She sees the people underneath her, wide-eyed and gaping-mouthed, before she is literally tossed, and lands on the dragon’s back with a grunt. She’s been on a dragon before, but never this abruptly. She knows what it’s like to see the earth beneath her, to feel her hair brush against the sky as the wind whistles past her. They’re low enough for Yubin to see that some of the other riders have returned, no doubt enticed by the fact that the orange dragon is there. The other dragons circle underneath them, but this orange one - Handong? - ignores them.

Yubin breathes in, feeling the cold air sting her nostrils. She lets it out slowly, and places her hand flat on the dragon’s neck, as she’s been trained to do. Its scales are warm, like simmering coals. Yubin’s fingers splay, and she swears she can feel the dragon ripple underneath her skin with what she thinks is a sigh of approval.

They don’t fly long, and they don’t fly particularly fast, either; it’s enough for Yubin to take in cities and countryside, stark grey skyscrapers replaced by drifting cherry blossom trees. She thinks she knows where they’re going, but she’s not completely sure until the dragon circles around a vast mountainscape and slows down. A waterfall drops thunder into the river below, and Yubin tips her face a little into the spray. 

The River City.

That explains the halting way Handong sometimes speaks, Yubin realizes. It’s not her first language.

The dragon glides to a stop at the entrance to what looks like a cave - no, it’s a cave but it’s also a  _ house _ ? - built into the mountainside. It uses its tail to pick Yubin up once more, but only to set her on her feet on the stone floor. This room is vast and circular, a bit plain; it’s a perch, she thinks, with its openness to the air and to water. She peeks down to the river below, then slowly turns to look at the dragon fully.

Ombre scales of orange and red glint in the natural light. The dragon has razor sharp claws that Yubin knows could rip the strongest man to shreds in an instant. Two long, devilish horns protrude from the dragon’s head, and Yubin can only shudder to think that they could actually impale someone. Little wisps of smoke and fire dance around the dragon and again Yubin feels warm, like she’s fallen asleep next to the fireplace in her parents’ house. 

The dragon has curled into itself, but it’s watching Yubin cautiously. Not out of any sense of danger, Yubin knows, but out of concern for  _ her _ . If the dragon is fearful, it’s not because of Yubin, it’s for her.

“I don’t understand,” Yubin says truthfully. It all makes her head hurt.

Before she has time to blink, the dragon has transformed again, and Handong is standing in front of her, still in her orange and red dress. She’s slim but curved well, and Yubin feels her face turn red when she thinks briefly of resting her hands on Handong’s hips.

“What don’t you understand?” Handong asks with a soft smile on her face.

“This,” Yubin gestures weakly at her, then at the cavern-house, and the outside. “What it all means, why I’m here.”

“I am a dragon,” Handong says simply, “and I have chosen you to be my rider.”

It sends a chill down Yubin’s spine, and she rests her hand against the stone wall of the cavern-house for support. She has been chosen.

_ She has been chosen _ .

“You’re hundreds of years old,” she says bluntly, which is probably rude, but that’s what the legends have told her. Plus, there is something wise in Handong’s eyes that speaks of knowing far more than anyone around her. 

“You could have anyone. Why me?”

Handong starts, as if she’s surprised that Yubin would even ask that question. And it isn’t that Yubin isn’t elated, she  _ is _ , because this is why she was born, and it feels as if the string that has been keeping her prisoner has loosened, because maybe Handong is holding the other end. But it’s been five long years and she doesn’t understand: why now? Why  _ her _ ?

“May I show you something, Yubin?” Handong extends her hand. She’s very considerate for a dragon, Yubin notes; always giving her a chance to say no. Yubin appreciates it. She takes Handong’s hand and smiles a little when the dragon - because that is what Handong is, human form or not - curls her fingers through Yubin’s own.

They walk through a corridor well-lit with modern chandeliers, and then another, which is darker, and leads to a small door at the end. There’s no lock, and that would be surprising, but Yubin knows you’d have to be a fool to try to rob a dragon. Still, when Handong opens the door and steps back, and Yubin sees it, her jaw drops practically to the stone floor.

Gold.

Heaps of it, scattered throughout the room. On the floor, on shelves, even on a bed that’s been tucked away in one corner like an afterthought. Gold coins, gold lamps, gold jewelry. More gold than Yubin has ever seen before in her life and probably ever will again.There is finery of every shape and form: dresses, veils, rugs, furniture, some entire suits of fearsome-looking armor. There’s even a throne, draped in crimson. It gathers dust and cobwebs; it looks, Yubin thinks, like a throne for ghosts.

“For years,” comes a gentle voice behind her, and Yubin glances over at Handong as she walks over to stand next to her, “Men and women have found their way here, and to the choosings, and offered themselves to me. They’ve sworn to give me everything I ever could imagine. All the prosperity, all the gold and jewels, everything.”

“I can’t give you any of that,” Yubin says, annoyed at the bitterness that crept into her voice. She is never  _ ashamed _ of her circumstances; she’s too proud for that. But she knows now there is no way she can ever compete with the richest of them for the dragon’s favor.

“I don’t need any of that.” Handong has moved to stand in front of her; Yubin feels the woman’s touch on her chin, lifting her face so that Yubin is looking at her. “I have my own jewels, my own coins.”

“Then why me, my lady?” The words tumble out of her before she can stop them, and Yubin flushes pink. But Handong only smiles, her hand shifting to cup Yubin’s face.

She’s taken the string, Yubin realizes. Chosen or not, even if she goes home alone tonight, Yubin knows - she belongs to Handong.

“People see me when I’m a dragon, when I wield more power than anyone could ever imagine and they dream of harnessing that power for their own purposes. But when I was a poor water girl who dumped over my basket, you were the only one who helped. The only one who saw me for me.”

She raises her hand to fold over Handong’s; the other woman studies her for a moment, as if she’s trying to memorize her features, before she speaks again.

“People have thrown themselves and their things at me for as long as I can remember. You were the first to pick something up for me. You, Lee Yubin. There is more honor in you than any other could dream of having. This is why I have chosen you.”

She’s overwhelmed; she uses her other hand to cover her face. “Thank you,” she chokes out. “My lady,  _ thank you _ .” She tries to bow, but Handong stops her.

“No tears, my little rider,” she says, and her voice is the softest, most beautiful thing Yubin has ever heard. “Even if they’re happy ones. Come with me; it’s been an interesting day. I’ll give you the grand tour once we’re rested.”

She realizes how exhausted she is suddenly, and Yubin fights back a yawn. Handong smiles knowingly at her, and Yubin gives a tiny grin in return. As they walk away from the room of gold, Yubin’s brow furrows in confusion.

“Handong?”

“Yes, my dearest?”

_ My dearest _ . Yubin’s heart flutters. 

“What happened to all of those other riders, who brought you all the riches?”

Handong waves one hand in dismissal, taking hold of Yubin’s with her other. “I sent them on their way.” She pauses, then winks at Yubin. “But I kept some of what they offered as payment for wasting my time.”

Yubin laughs; it rings out through the halls of Handong’s cavern in the mountainside as they walk back out to the perch that faces the river. The sun is just beginning to set, and the water sparkles as if it was crystal.

“Still want to go on those adventures?” Handong asks. She tugs Yubin down so that they’re sat together against the far wall, watching as the sky turns luminescent pink and red.

“I want to go everywhere with you,” Yubin answers honestly.

“And why is that?”

She feels Handong transform, feels her stretch out and wrap her tail gently around Yubin, drawing her in. The dragon is warm, she is safe. 

She is home.

A looped trio of small silver chain has appeared in her lap. She runs her fingers over them, then pins it to her shirt, just over her heart.

Yubin smiles and closes her eyes.

“Because I’m yours.”


End file.
